


The Game

by LazyBaker



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 02:58:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7600777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyBaker/pseuds/LazyBaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A question for a piece of clothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peacefrog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacefrog/gifts).



> Inspired by a conversation that, as usual, goes to the filthiest and best of places.

It was their game.

_What color are my eyes?_

Hannibal read the text again, he’d left his phone on vibrate despite himself and his own rules for when they went out to the theatre: keep his phone off and make sure he had a private box for Will.  
  
No interruptions. No uncomfortable Will Grahams.

Yet he had kept it on, distracted by the cut of Will’s new suit, the scent of him fresh from the shower. His mind had been elsewhere.

He read the text again and snuck a look at Will, who seemed to be engaged with the play down below on stage, eyes shining brightly as he watched the sturdy woman belt out her love, oblivious to Hannibal beside him.

Hannibal was impressed with Will’s slight of hand. He angled his phone at his knee and replied

_Grey when it rains. Green in the spring. Blue when there isn’t a cloud in sight._

There was a bright light shining from Will’s other side, illuminating the exasperated roll of his eyes and his small smile and Hannibal almost dropped his phone as their eyes caught one another.

That was the look.

Without breaking away, Will took off his watch and for a moment dangled it between his fingers as if to show Hannibal the long road he had ahead of him, and slipped it into his jacket pocket and reached for his phone. 

Hannibal held his breath until he received Will’s text in that awful teasing notification.

_Who’s Charlie?_

A squashed face dog Will had unofficially declared as his own when he’d been a child in New Orleans. Every day after school Will had fed her the bologna of his bologna and cheese sandwich.

He still liked eating those. Hannibal could only suggest a better bread helplessly from the sidelines. 

_Your first of many many rescues._

Will’s phone flashed. The smile reappeared, bigger and softer, as he reached up with both hands and undid his tie. A deep teal with gold trim. Silk. Hannibal had bought it for him last week for tonight’s date.

Will took his time pulling it from his neck, the slight shushing sound as it slid against the fabric of his shirt ran through Hannibal and sent the hairs on his neck standing in that wonderful tingling way.

It glided through Will’s fingers, wrapping around the juts of his knuckles, he followed the edges in a soft caress that Hannibal felt down his spine to his very center. He rolled it and placed it alongside his watch.

Another question. Another rush to type out the answer to see what Will would do next. If he would stop. If there was a line that he wouldn’t cross. They’d never done this outside their own walls and the line, wherever it was, was not within Hannibal’s control.

Will’s jacket soon hung on the back of his seat, his cufflinks pocketed, his shoes set aside with his socks rolled up inside of them, feet stretching bare on the carpet indecent in their stark tendons and veins as he pushed his toes against the floor.

Hannibal could no longer hear the orchestra or recall the name of the play or even remember the hundreds of people surrounding them. There was only Will and his nimble fingers and the delicate arch of his feet and those eyes that looked at Hannibal and saw something they wanted. That delightful devious–horribly addicting–mind which had stunned Hannibal every single day since he’d met him.

The flush on Will’s cheeks cascading down his neck even in the dim light shining from the stage, setting Hannibal’s skin flaring, burning.

Hannibal gripped his phone tightly, the metal backing surely melting against his palm. His other hand on his knee with his fingers digging into his muscles, unwilling for the moment to break these rules and reach out and touch. It wasn’t over yet, but the end was in sight in the thin material of Will’s shirt and the tent of Will’s slacks.

Will placed his fingers along the first button of his shirt, plucking at it lightly, staring down at his phone. Thoughtful. He glanced up at Hannibal and began to type with one hand.

_What did you say when we first met?_

_You’re beautiful._

_Wrong._

_I meant to._

Will huffed.

 _Idiot_.

Will set his phone down and started on the first button. Then the next. His neck was bared, a bruise just under his clavicle shined in the aftermath of where Hannibal had spent the afternoon. As more and more buttons came undone, Hannibal caught a glimpse at the subtle peak of Will’s nipple. The beginning slope of his soft belly. 

He reached out and grabbed Will’s hand, stopping him.

Will trembled. His skin radiated with heat and arousal so thick that Hannibal was pulled closer until his mouth was just beginning to touch Will’s ear.

“No.” Hannibal said. He was lightheaded and his heartbeat raced and shook at his rib cage. _How unusual_ , Hannibal thought. 

He reached inside of Will’s shirt, going slow to feel every fiber of muscle as he shifted and twitched, every hint of bone, every thump of his heart as Hannibal ran his hand along Will’s sturdy chest. He teased at his nipple, light touches that made Hannibal pant and Will swallow down those sounds that would make have him grumbling and blushing.

Will shook in his hands, head dipping to rest on Hannibal’s shoulder as Hannibal’s hand drifted downwards, playing with the few soft curls under his navel. 

“One more question.” Hannibal said. He buried his nose in Will’s curls and breathed in the lilac scent of his shampoo on him. The scent of him wanting was dizzying. They wouldn’t last until intermission. They’d need to make their escape soon.

“Okay.” Will laughed against his shoulder, lips dragging along the line of his lapel. “Your place or mine?”

“The car, if we’re quick.”

“Wrong again, Doctor.” Will grabbed Hannibal’s hand and placed it between his legs, his knees widening to let him in. Will’s hand covered Hannibal’s and together they cupped Will’s hard cock, the fat length of him throbbing in his slacks. Hannibal squeezed, rubbing him and then reaching lower to palm his balls. 

Will gasped, lurching forward in his seat and grinding against Hannibal’s hand.

“Here?” Hannibal said.

 Will nodded. With both hands he gripped Hannibal’s wrist, keeping him _just there_. “Please.”

His voice had gone high and soft. Needy. Hannibal leaned closer, their legs pressed together and he was almost on top of Will, caging him in. Protecting him from the eyes of anyone who might glance their way. 

With his other hand, Hannibal reached in between them and unzipped Will’s slacks and brought Will’s cock out. He was wet and leaking into Hannibal’s palm. He jerked him off slow, his other hand pressing and rubbing his balls through his slacks.

Will bit Hannibal’s shoulder, muffling his groan as he came. He shuddered and trembled. Hannibal kept stroking him, far passed when it became too much, but Will didn’t pull away. He grabbed at Hannibal’s shoulders, fingers raking their way up to his neck and just brushing against Hannibal’s hair before he gripped Hannibal by the back of his head and pulled him in and kissed him.

He was brutal and cruel and bit Hannibal’s bottom lip hard before pulling away. Hannibal kept his hand wrapped around Will’s cock for a long moment before pulling out the handkerchief in his breast pocket and wiping his hand off and then cleaning Will as much as he could. Will jerked in his seat at the touch and covered his mouth with his hand.

Hannibal folded the handkerchief back up, pressed it against his nose and sniffed it. He sighed and put it back in his pocket.

Will straightened himself up, buttoning his shirt and zipping up his pants. He looked debauched and spent and like Hannibal had spent the entire evening with his mouth on him. It was a good look on him. 

“Beautiful.” Hannibal said. Will’s face reddened and he looked up at Hannibal through his curls. 

“Don’t get sappy on me.”

“I can’t help it.”

Will smiled. He pulled his socks and shoes back on, then his cufflinks and watch. He redressed himself until he looked somewhat like he’d looked at the beginning of the date. He didn't bother with his hair.

Hannibal briefly thought of his own appearance. Surely anyone would be able to see Will's handprints on him. He'd been shattered and welded together by him, put on the edge of something too big for even Hannibal to fully see. But he could feel it inside of himself. Brimming and pushing at his bones and skin. Ready to erupt.

Will leaned in, well over into Hannibal’s own seat, and kissed him quickly on the lips. Hannibal chased after him, wanting to wrap himself around Will. He patted the back of Hannibal's hair down, attempting to fix it and placed his hand high up on Hannibal’s thigh, fingertips just skirting the tent in his slacks.

“I think your coat is long enough to hide this.” Will said. He traced the zipper causing Hannibal to buck his hips.

“Do you wish to see the rest of the play?”

Will licked his lips. Hannibal devoted his life to following that tongue. 

“Are we at a play?” Will said. 

“I have no idea anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com)


End file.
